Interlude II, Default
'Master Link has become non-functional; Current status: critically injured. Body has entered a shutdown mode to conserve energy and facilitate recovery. Immediate objectives: paused; Master Link must regain full functionality before progression can continue. Status of the Spirit Maiden: undetermined; Likely location: the next spring. Recommended actions: perform diagnostic assessment on MASTER, initiate HEALING protocol.'
Fi stared at the body of her unconscious Master as he lay in her lap, who was still taking shaky breaths even in his current state. Snot coated his upper lip and nose, mixing with blood and tears to form a disgusting slurry that almost covered all of his bruised face. Each muscle twitch, shaking breath, and mumbled whimper only added to his negative state. His chances of dying (without intervention) while unconscious were roughly 90%. Fi began running diagnostics on his major injuries, picking out files in her databases that matched them and could treat them.
Beep, boop.
'Medical file: Entry #52766. To mitigate long-term injury and prevent fatality due to hemorrhage, apply a tourniquet above the site of injury to occlude blood flow. In critical situations, a belt or shirt may serve as a makeshift tourniquet, secured with a small stick.
Medical file: Entry #17832.
"To address nasal fractures, apply pressure to realign the bones before applying gauze to manage bleeding. Metal may be used in subsequent stabilization. Healing potion is advised. ERROR: No gauze or metal detected. Recommendation: Return MASTER to Skyloft to procure necessary resources."
Medical file: Entry #37249.
To address a compromised windpipe, perform a tracheostomy by creating an incision and inserting a tube to facilitate breathing. Healing potion is required for recovery. ERROR: No healing potion detected. Recommendation: Return MASTER to Skyloft to obtain required resources.
ERROR: Cannot return to Skyloft without MASTER'S approval. Suggest waking him. Additional suggestion: Apply tourniquet and provide air for MASTER.'
The end of Fi's arm sharpened into a pin-point precise blade, one she used to cut a sliver into Link's throat before swapping its form to a tube of the same precision. She stuck it in deep until his shaky breaths passed through it with ease, the sound now almost whistling each repetition. Her arm flashed with bright blue light, dying down to reveal the tube now separated from her arm, comfortably inserted into Link's throat. He could breathe; crudely, yes, but breathe. It was an emergency, there was no practicality in a quality check. Now, she had to ensure he didn't bleed out.
She lifted his belt off of his body, undoing it slowly as she locked onto the dark blood leaking from his thigh. The bleeding wasn't an immediate concern — he would last a few hours untreated — but she tackled it anyway to prevent it from becoming a major issue. She looped it above the wound and tied a flawless knot, sharpening her arm and putting it into the loop to add security. She separated it from herself again, allowing her impromptu medical assistance to sit for a moment. From there, she attempted to wake him.
"Master Link," she spoke, her tone factually flat and falling as it always was. "It is imperative that you awaken as soon as possible in order to limit the aftereffects of your injuries. While an unconscious state is ideal for healing, in these conditions it is 67% more likely that you will suffer from an infection. I insist that you awaken. Now." Her firm words fell on sleeping ears as he nuzzled closer to her lap, clawing desperately for warmth that wasn't there. Fi thought out some alternative ways to wake her master.
'Attempt smacking him. Simulation: FAILURE.
Attempt subconscious dive. Simulation: FAILURE.
Attempt shouting at him. Simulation: FAILURE.
Suggested actions…
Unknown.'
Though Fi's expression didn't change, her systems within went on mild alert at the nonsensical update within her systems. Only when the most outrageous situations that were, according to all of her data, physically impossible ran through simulations did she get an 'unknown' in her suggested actions. Granted: none of those simulations revolved around her being unable to move due to her programming, however she could typically create a fix with all of her available data. Something was wrong. But what?
'Run Self-Diagnostic.
Running…
ERROR ENCOUNTERED: Personal Database modified without permission. Investigate!'
Fi's eyes almost widened at the notification. Only she and Codenamed BLACK could modify her Personal Database, that which contained vital information and, more pertinent, her coding/settings that determined everything about her. She would've investigated, figured out the source of the problem and likely purged it from her systems, if it wasn't for a sound that caught her audio sensors. A sound from the open door of the final dungeon's chamber.
Click… clack… step… step.
"Well… cough, looks like I did what I set out to do."
Ghirahim stood at the door, holding his guts as they spilled from his abdomen.
His lifeless eyes were now swirling with flecks of color, the mess of purple blood on his body the only highlight of his otherwise mono-colored form. He smiled at Fi. A dangerous smile, according to her brief recording/analysis of his fight with her master. His relaxed stance suggested no active hostility, but her alert was high nonetheless. "I beat the brat to an inch of his life," Ghirahim continued, playing with his hanging guts like strands of long hair.
"If you intend to harm my Master, I am afraid I will have to prevent that from happening," Fi answered, her gaze hardening into indifference as she raised her arm. The folds sharpened again, glinting even in the dull sun. "My programming deems a moment such as this as a case to break one of my core rules. I will do what is necessary to ensure Demise's eternal seal."
He chuckled, waving his hand carelessly at her. "Ah, that's what you're programmed to do and say, I know. After all…" He reached up to the hair covering his eye with a shaking arm, grabbing his face under the hair. The dramatic flair and pause sought no reaction, though Ghirahim continued on. "I know what we are." He swept the hair above his head, grinning with sharpened teeth as he allowed her to take in the sight.
In place of his other eye was missing code, still trying to weave its way into existence as she watched.
"I am a fully artificial being created without gender nor form nor thought nor feelings. You are a semi-artificial being with ~60% organic matter, the ~40% of coding added long after your creation. Additionally, you hold a gendered appearance and strong feelings regarding the Spirit Maiden, as I have surmised." Fi lowered her arm and dulled it back into its original form, still scanning every inch of Ghirahim's body for a sign that he was going to become an aggressor. As she did, he continued to heal, the life in his eyes closer to returning.
"Bingo, you robot," he teased, leaning against the doorway and heaving a sigh. "Ah, whatever. Doesn't matter what you do or don't do. I've faced death enough times that it's less about who sends me to death…" —he licked his lips at her— "who offends me in life. So. That pathetic little puppy is safe for now." He nodded at Link, whose position hadn't changed much in Fi's lap. The snot and blood had begun to dry. "No, no, it's only that girl and that dog who watches over the temple. How old is she now?"
"An additional hundred years onto her age at the time you met, I assume. Due to my creation happening after the battle, I am unable to make a 100% accurate assessment."
He raised a brow, laughing. "Oh, my. The bot finally doesn't know everything. C'mon, with all that data, surely you can make a reconstruction? Who your creator was? How that goddess bitch only got LUCKY? You can't even guess?"
"My creator is only known in my files as Codenamed BLACK. Her Grace, the Goddess, represents everything my Master has and must accomplish. I make few guesses. I focus solely on my data and attempt to reach the most likely outcome. I am but a tool of assistance for my Master in order to reach his goal of eternally sealing Demise. It is his destiny."
Ghirahim snapped his fingers, nodding, letting his excess guts spill to the floor. His body was healed again, the life in his eyes restored, the hole in his gut sealing up with code. The code turned to skin, though traces of it remained. "Maybe that's the issue then," he said, his voice clear now. His cape returned to his shoulders in a fray of crimson diamond, spinning into and out of existence. "It's all his, his, his. At this point, you might as well be a sword. Oh wait — you are."
Fi paused, blinking rapidly as she assessed the statement. Perplexed, she met his gaze, her expression changed just a little. "I understand you are speaking in figurative language, however I lack the knowledge to see your point. Yes, I am a technologically infused spirit/seal that takes primary form within the Goddess Blade. I do not consider that to be an issue."
Ghirahim laughed, standing straight and wiping some blood from his lip. "Well, maybe that's a deeper issue, robot," he said, shrugging and turning his back on her. "Though I wonder… what if you could do something a little different…?"
SNAP!
He vanished into a glow of yellow light and a shower of crimson.
…Beep.
Fi returned to the more important matter, her suddenly modified file, accessing the ERROR notification to see what the issue was.
Within the standard settings and essential programs were, oddly, recorded files. Three, only, but duplicated and disorganized, meshed into the Personal Database. For the three original ones, there were three images (one each) previewing what the recordings were. One was a messy bedroom, books scattered, the fading moonlight slipping through a crack in the still-open window. She identified the room as her Master's. Time recorded: Three days ago. The second was a forest, filled with wildlife and lit by the dulled setting sun, trapped behind the clouds. Time recorded: Yesterday. The last was a wide, dark chamber, worn out an destroyed but ornate. Time recorded: 30 minutes ago.
One by one, she watched through the files. The first was an informative conversation she had with her Master. The second was another informative conversation she had with her Master. The last was the most recent conversation she had with her Master.
…She was… confused. No, that was an incorrect assessment. She lacked the data to explain what she was seeing.
Between each conversation was no obvious connection, other than the fact that it involved her Master. Though, almost all of her recorded conversations were with her Master, excluding some of her earliest and her latest. She watched again and again and again, real-time barely passing outside of her digital mind. Not a connection formed when she analyzed her Master's behavior, the environment, or even any signs of hostility. Only when she, after countless rewatches, analyzed her own behavior did she find a connection — one that put her own coding into question.
During each recorded instance, and all of their clones…
She… felt.
In the first recording, she smiled and appreciated the knowledge of sentiment. In the second, she was conflicted about her own feelings. In the third, she was afraid.
This… new information… couldn't exist.
She snapped back to her Core Programming, reading over every last bit of information Codenamed BLACK had left for her, and the rules that were set. The first few, especially the very first, were beyond necessary to maintain their success and achieve her Master's goal. Breaking it was a 100% guarantee that she had jeaprodized the mission.
'Rule #1: Do not feel.
Emotion can and will be a detriment to your focus regarding the long mission ahead. If you make short decisions based on emotional value rather than practical value, you are jeopardizing the mission for both you and whoever your master may wind up being.'
Having gone over that, she swept back to her Personal Database, deleting every copy of the recordings and prematurely archiving the originals. She wasn't often this rushed, especially considering her current state in the physical world was perfectly fine. Hardly a minute had passed since she checked back on the original error message. But her unnatural haste went on until all of the files were deleted.
Until they began copying themselves back into her Personal Database.
Several times over, she swept through her database, shoving the archived files further and further down the priority list, but the copies kept coming. After roughly the twentieth time, she gave up the effort, groaning under her breath at the notion that her efforts were unsuccessful. What was worse was that no data existed to explain the issue. Fi was among the very few people who could make files permanent within her Memory Banks. So why were these files not being deleted?
Sigh.
Fi lifted Link by the insides of his knees and his back, floating to the end of the gorgeous spring and looking up at the statue of Hylia at the end of it. The words came to her naturally, and her monotone voice raised and fell into something that could only be described as singing. It was the only way Fi could translate the phrases into an audible medium that made sense to her Master.
"From the edge of time, I guide, the way the Maiden glides; to another spring she must go, for I have foretold; Hero, I ask only this, a wish for eternal bliss; be what I saw, or the world shall fall."
'Location obtained: Eldin Volcano.'
She turned to a broken pillar, flat and only a little rough, before sitting atop it with Link still in her arms. In the time that she waited, she thought on her previous actions. The audible and visual expressions of emotion, the recordings watched over and over, the conversation with Ghirahim — all of it. Not often did she just… think. She assessed, acknowledged, archived, advised, acted the way she was supposed to act: A tool. Nothing less, nothing more. Why was her databank trying to act like more? Why was she feeling tense, relaxed, afraid, conflicted? Why?
"…what if you could do something a little different…" she mumbled, echoing words told to her by Ghirahim. She said it again, speaking louder to nobody.
"What if I could do something a little different…?"
"W-wha… whu…"
She snapped back to reality when she noticed her Master stirring to consciousness in her lap, her thoughtful expression freezing to the same as always. The default settings. "Master Link," she said, "you have been unconscious for twenty-five minutes and 35 seconds in counting. I have tended to your major wounds as much as I could using some of your equipment. I have been unable to return to Skyloft due to lacking your permission. In order to get the best results for healing, I suggest you give me persmission."
He coughed, his whistling voice raspy. "Y-yes… please…"
"It is simply my—"
"Thank you, Fi. Now… l-let's go."
A/N
Alrighty folks, admission time!
I think a scene like this has been done before in another fanfic.
I remember reading a fanfiction revolving around Fi and Link throughout important Zelda games, with, obviously, SS being one of the most important in that fic. And there was a moment after the first dungeon where Link falls asleep on Fi and the two just sit there for a while. Now, obviously, the difference is that Ghirahim wasn't present and Fi didn't have these thoughts. So, while I took the cliffnotes of that scene, I still made it my own thing.
I wish I could credit the author of that fic, but I forget its name. If anyone knows, let me know so I can give credit where it is due, because this concept is not my own.
But we have FINALLY made it back to Skyloft, baby!
The subplots begin!